


A New Spin

by roqueamadi



Category: Wimbledon (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Locker Room, M/M, alternative ending, the German boy and his Brit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roqueamadi/pseuds/roqueamadi
Summary: An alternative ending to the film.





	A New Spin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarcasm_for_free](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_for_free/gifts).



There was only about 15 minutes left to wait now.

Dieter had blurted out some nonsense about the meaning of tennis, which was not remotely what he intended to say, and not remotely comforting for his heartbroken friend.  
In fact, time was running out to say what he’d been meaning to say—well, for years really, but he had only just now realised that time was running out for him to say it when it might actually help.

So he turned and reached across, hesitantly, to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat before he said, “Good luck, my friend,” and Peter turned to thank him. But Dieter took that moment to lean just that short distance further forward and pressed his lips to Peter’s, gently, briefly.

“Sorry,” he stammered, withdrawing, and Peter was watching him with surprise, certainly, but not anger, at least. “I just wanted to say that… well, you kind of said that getting off with Bradbury was the inspiration behind your success and…” he hesitated. “I mean to say, if you need to get off before this match, I’m happy to help.”

He expected Peter to look at him in disgust and tell him to go away and stop talking nonsense, but instead, to his surprise, a smile broke out on Peter’s face and he laughed.

“You’re offering a good luck fuck 15 minutes before my championship Wimbledon match?” he asked with a smirk and Dieter could feel a flush creeping up his neck and over his ears.

“Or anytime,” Dieter said easily.

Peter’s grin faded. “Dieter. Really?”

He shrugged, dropping his gaze. “I should have said something before. Years ago. I didn’t want to be a distraction to you. But it turns out maybe a distraction was what you needed, if this tournament is anything to go by.”

He still couldn’t meet Peter’s eyes. But the tone in his voice when he spoke next forced him to look up.

“I… well, yes, maybe it is.”

“I know you don’t feel anything for me,” Dieter said, aiming for a light voice but possibly coming out a little desperate. “But perhaps you could pretend I am her… I don’t mind.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Peter frowned. “I’ll admit I haven’t… well, it was a surprise, but… perhaps if you’d kiss me again?”

Dieter didn’t need to be asked twice. He reached for the back of Peter’s neck as he leaned across the bench and pressed his lips against his for the second time. This time it wasn’t so chaste. He pressed forward a little harder, and licked Peter’s lips open. He ran his tongue against Peter’s hesitant one, and even this was enough to have him hardening uncomfortably in his jeans. He smothered a soft moan against Peter’s mouth.

Peter certainly wasn’t hating it; Dieter felt the first stir of hope as he felt his friend leaning forward across the bench to meet him, turned almost completely to face him. Dieter pulled away for a moment, resting his forehead against Peter’s, both of them breathing hard, and he asked, “More?”

Peter nodded, and Dieter kissed Peter’s flushed red ear, his jaw, and down his neck, sucking and licking his way under the white collar of his shirt until he found a spot that made Peter squirm and let out a rather high-pitched noise. Dieter laughed softly.

He drew back and Peter looked up as Dieter stood, confusion crossing his face until Dieter nodded towards the showers.

“Come,” he instructed. “I think we should move somewhere a little more private, in case someone comes in.”

“Good point,” Peter said, jumping to his feet and following Dieter around the corner.

They stepped into the next room where the shower cubicles were lined up, and Dieter turned and pushed Peter against the tiled wall, his lips finding his again, his hands pushing up under Peter’s shirt. Dieter made a noise of approval when he felt the hardness between Peter’s legs pressing firmly against his own, and he hooked his thumbs in Peter’s white shorts.

“I would like this to last longer, but we are running out of time,” he said with a small smirk. He tugged the other man’s pants down with his underwear around his knees, and grasped his cock firmly. Peter’s head fell back against the tiles and he let out a short gasp as Dieter started to stroke him, his lips finding that sensitive spot on his neck again.  
Peter was already hard and leaking. Dieter drew back to get a clear look and then, with an arrogant smirk, got down on his knees.

“Dieter-” Peter gasped, threading his hands in Dieter’s hair to still him. “I don’t want to… I don’t want you to…”

“What?” Dieter smirked, running his thumb over the moist tip of Peter’s cock, watching his eyes unfocus for a moment.

“I never knew… but now that I do… I’m not just using you, alright?”

“You can use me all you like,” Dieter said, looking up at him with a smile as sweat broke out on Peter’s forehead. “But don’t worry, we will talk later. After you win Wimbledon.”

Peter nodded slightly and released his grip on Dieter’s hair, and Dieter took him in his mouth.

Dieter had been told before that he gave good blow jobs. Judging by the way Peter was panting and gasping and scrabbling at his hair, he was doing well. He kept up a steady pace and pressure, sucking firmly and humming in approval of Peter’s reactions, and it didn’t take long before Peter was spurting down his throat, warm and salty. Dieter sucked him clean and then gently tugged his underpants and shorts back into place before standing up.

Peter’s hand was leaning heavily on Dieter’s shoulder and he made a visible effort to recover his stability.

“That was… that was…”

Dieter just smiled and straightened Peter’s shirt and hair carefully, looking him up and down to ensure he was presentable. As he finished, he heard the door to the change rooms open and the manager called out, “Peter, it’s time to go.”

“Go,” Dieter said quietly with a smile and one last touch to his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll see you after.”

Peter nodded, taking a breath and turning to go. He paused at the door to the showers. “Thank you,” he said, and Dieter nodded, waving him out.

Dieter turned to the nearest basin and leaned forward, watching himself in the mirror as he heard Peter gather his things and leave. He took a few breaths and tried to stop his heart from racing. He needed to make his way out to his seat to watch the game, and he fervently hoped what he had done had been a help, or at the very least, not a hindrance to his friend.

 

Peter smashed the final. He hadn’t played so well in years, and all it took was a glance up to the stands between each point to see Dieter clapping and smiling encouragingly to feel like he’d been given a shot of adrenaline. He played on pure confidence. He dropped the second set but it felt like nothing more than a gift to the crowd, letting their enjoyment of the match last a little longer, and he annihilated his opponent.

After—after he’d won and was running up through the stands to embrace his family and Dieter—he yelled into his brother’s ear over the crowd to ask Dieter to come home with them, and his brother shrugged. Then he was dragged off for hour upon hour of photos and interviews.

He finally arrived back at the family home at 4am. Everyone got up to greet him and share a cup of tea before returning to bed. Dieter was there, as he’d hoped, in a loose grey T-shirt and boxer shorts, and he followed Peter back up the stairs after everyone said goodnight, paused at the door to the guest room where he’d been deposited until Peter made a face at him and followed Peter into his own room.

Once he was inside, the door safely locked, Peter grabbed him in a rough hug and wrestled him onto the bed, enjoying the soft huff of laughter and grunt from his friend as he was slammed down onto the mattress.

“I won because of you,” Peter said, keeping his voice low. He sat heavily on Dieter’s hips, his friend sprawled on the bed where he’d thrown him, the sleeve of his T-shirt riding up enough to reveal his bicep.

“You won because of yourself,” Dieter said with a hint of a smile. “All I gave you was a little boost.”

“It was more than that, Dieter. It was you.”

His friend blushed and looked away. Peter leaned forward and kissed his neck, feeling the other man shudder slightly underneath him, and had to repress a moan.

“Dieter…” he breathed. “Can I...” He wasn't sure what he was asking, but he kissed Dieter's jaw softly to demonstrate. He just wanted more of _this_.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Dieter chuckled, turning back to nuzzle Peter’s ear.

“How did I never know,” he muttered, almost to himself, “that this would feel so good?”

Dieter met his eyes again, and grinned. “Because you’re a slow learner,” he said, and muffled Peter’s laugh with his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Peter and Dieter had 10x more chemistry than the canon romance, imo :p
> 
> Thanks very much to [sarcasm_for_free](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_for_free/pseuds/sarcasm_for_free) for the alpha + beta + pretty much being the sole reason this even made it to AO3 at all :D


End file.
